Magnifi Scent
by Inumaru-Chan
Summary: Penelope has lost her sense of smell, but now it's too late. How will she handle this news?  Pepe/Penelope


Getting jealous was not part of the plan. In fact, growing feelings was never part of the plan. Scratch that. There was never suppose to be a plan in the first place. And yet there was. A plan full of nauseating attachment and painful jealousy, and it was all his fault.

"Pretend that when you look into my eyes, you see nothing but a wonderful future of love and happiness and cheer."

"All I see are eyes, woman."

"Thus why _pretend_ is the operative word."

"I don't see why you pulled me into this. You never liked the guy before and the moment he realized you weren't going to give in and left, _that_'_s _when you fall head-over-heels."

"It's only because I had time to breath. Literally. Now stare, man—stare."

Sylvester the cat rolled his eyes and did what Penelope asked. He owed her for his free tuna fish dinner, after all. Unfortunately, the time he spent trying to see nothing in her eyes was time lost in constructing clever plans in catching a certain yellow bird.

Penelope frowned, her whiskers drooping.

"Is he looking?" She whispered from the side of her mouth.

"I thought you wanted me to keep staring at your eyes, Einstein. You can't have both, you know."

"Oh, just let me do it, then."

The female cat inclined her head just enough to catch her objective in her peripherals. Ah! There he was. The tugging in her chest morphed into a painful squeeze.

Pepé le Pew. Bane of her existence for many years. Each time the skunk had captured her in his arms, all she could think of was escape. The intense smell that emitted from his body clouded her mind and eyes until all she could see was the rushing of her heart and the direct command of the primal instinct to run away. The stench even disturbed her sight to a point where she was unable to recognize the skunk. Over and over again she was caged by his love when she could not hear a word of it, nor see his effort.

There came a point where his appearances were so frequent that gradually, bit by bit, Penelope's sense of smell was cut away, dulled. The smell was fading, losing its punch, until one day it was completely gone.

On that glorious day, Penelope saw Pepé for the first time. Heard his voice. But he had other plans on that day. He told her that he knew when he was not wanted. It had been a long time, and he had done his best to gain her affections. With that, he kissed her paw, leaving with no regrets.

Penelope had thought that that would be the end of Pepé le Pew. Certainly, she was now free. The cat returned to her job of painting landscapes and outstanding scenery. She traveled across Europe until she finally landed in America. Penelope had all the time in the world now that she was no longer running from it. On and on she painted, letting it nearly consume her life.

At one point in her many days of freedom, she fell asleep, so consumed was she that is had been a whole two days since she had last slept. When she awoke, she found that a lone white stripe slipped down her shoulder blades and down her back. The cat wondered who the culprit was, feeling the anxious feeling associated with that stripe. When she happened to glance down, she found out who it was.

White paint caked her shaking paws.

Penelope gulped, turning around to see if _he_ would come to receive her, and when he did not, her heart plummeted to her limp tail. Oh no, this was not happening. She, Penelope the cat, was hoping beyond hope that _he_ would come. She shook her head violently. No, no, no! That was not it!

But the plain facts were beginning to pile up. The painting she had so diligently worked on for the past two days contained monochrome elements. And so did the painting before that, and the one before that as well. This just could not be! It had to be some type of Stockholm Syndrome going on, because she simply did not love or even like that, that thing! Or, did she?

She hurriedly dashed over to her computer to turn on her favorite relaxing music, and to perhaps grab a sip of her favored catnip tea. That would definitely calm her down. But as the first chords of her music wafted into her ears, she found out with a pang that the lyrics were comprised of French! The poor cat went through her playlist, frantic now, to come to the sad conclusion that each and every song was French and unfortunately all centered around love.

"This has got to be the craziest thing that would ever happen! Why me? Why not another poor cat?" Penelope paced from one side of her room to another. Now that she had next to no sense in her nose, she could clearly see all of their encounters before her. Oh yes, he was enchanting and persistent and maybe handsome, too. He was sweet and kind. But on top of all that, his smell was atrocious!

There, Penelope stood still in her room. She could no longer smell him. What was stopping her now? Afraid from her thoughts, Penelope hit her head with her paint covered paw. No, no! This was completely insane! There had to be another way.

For the next month, Penelope went from one male cat to another, trying to find qualities that simply were not there. Sure, they were kind and complete with a set of gentlemanly characteristics, but they were not…Penelope cringed when she thought this—they were not _him_.

"That's it. I'll just go meet him, remind myself that he's just not the one, and I'll get back to my life," Penelope declared. She used the money from her surprisingly popular art to fly back to Paris, the place where this all started. The ride there was tense, like a parade of ants was marching up and down her back. By the time she got off, her tail was as fuzzy as a chinchilla.

Her search lasted only a couple of days, but in the end, it was fruitful. The cat found her quarry next to a deserted bakery. Every manner of human and animal had long since left the vicinity, which was a clue that something with an intense stench was taking place at the area. Before Penelope could stop herself, she had bolted to the shop, almost in a heated daze. This was not how she had intended to present herself, but the girl was simply lost from her detailed script.

And that was where everything fell apart. There, with her Pepé (and oh, what was she thinking going with other cats when all she ever needed was right in front of her?) was a tiny rat of a dog. A dog! With a bow no less. The little dog was chatting away with Pepé, his smile larger then when he had ever been with Penelope, she begrudgingly noted. They were sharing at each other like they were each other's soul. Penelope could feel the beginnings of a growl coil in her throat, but instead she backed slowly away.

"A dog," she grumbled to herself as she scuttled away. Alright, she had to admit to it now. Perhaps she did have some sort of feeling towards the thing that had bothered her for quite some time. Perhaps. And to be bested by a little dog was shameful! How in the world could she take Pepé back when he had willingly let her go?

And that is where we are now. Penelope quickly got in touch with her best friend, Sylvester. He had been in the country with his owner, touring the major cities. He agreed to help her only if she would feed him in return. The hunt for his yellow Tweety Bird had been rough and unforgiving. They had went to dinner and decided to follow Pepé and his date into the theatre they were entering. It was then, as Penelope and Sylvester sat in the sets adjacent to Pepé and his date, that Penelope had a wonderful idea. She would make that skunk jealous! All she had to do was have Sylvester pretend to be her date. It would hopefully work as long as Pepé saw the two faux love birds.

But now that she was staring at him, her plan felt flimsy, its backbone rapidly breaking. He was not paying any attention, too focused on the dog on his arm. Penelope's stomach felt as though it had been thrown off of a roller coaster. She had lost it. She had so many chances and times to accept him, but she let his stench get the best of her. Her shallowness hit her full on.

_Wait, what am I doing? Giving up too easy, that's what it is!_ Penelope growled in her head. _He never did, and so I won't!_

"Sylvester, it's not working," She whispered from the corner of her mouth.

"I could have told you that much."

"Just shut up and kiss me."

"Wait, what?"

"It will make him jealous!"

"Nuh-uh! I am not going to kiss you. I mean, you're a nice girl and all, but we—"

Penelope did not give the male cat enough time to process. She launched herself at him, locking lips. She trained her eyes on Pepé, her paws mentally crossed. And yes! He was looking! He was looking! Sylvester pushed her off of him, wiping his mouth with his paw.

"Suffering suckatash, Penelope, I told you I didn't want to kiss! Sheesh!" The tom cat yowled. Instantly, he covered his mouth. "Ooops, umm, sorry?"

It was too late now. She could feel her cheeks growing red, and dismally turned to Pepé. He stared at her with no emotion, an odd expression from a generally emotion filled creature. Penelope blanched, needing to leave. She turned and ran away from the theatre, Sylvester on her tail. They both scuttled over to her hotel, panting heavily.

"Gee, I'm sorry Penelope. You just surprised me and.."

"No, it was my fault. I was stupid to think it would work. I'm sorry I used you like that. I think I was…am desperate."

"You really like that guy now, huh?"

She nodded sadly, sniffling.

"Then I think I should get going then."

"Why?" Penelope asked, brushing away her silent tears. Sylvester turned to leave.

"You should probably look behind you to find out."

Penelope stiffened the fur on her body crackling with anticipation. It couldn't be…he could be…she turned slowly around.

"Bonjour, my pink rabbit," Pepé said a little sheepishly. Sheepishly? What in the world happened to him? His shoulders were pulled in, his ears down to his head, his feet shuffling, his tail flat on the ground. The girl dog was nowhere in sight. Speaking of which, why in the world was his face red on one side?

"Pepé?" Penelope cautiously ventured. She tentatively took one step closer to him. "I'm…"

"Sorrie," He finished.

"Wait, what for? I'm the one who ruined your night, probably your life, too." Where did that come from?

"Oh, no! Never! You are not ze one who should be doing ze apologizing. It is I. I, how do you say, could never find one such as you. There were no replacements. I told zat girl that I was completely finished with you, but in my heart…" He scratched the back of his head, "There was only you. When she found out, zis was the result." He pointed to his red face.

"That's never deterred you before."

"Maybe I wanted to be deterred from her." And there was the smile Penelope knew.

"I'm also a cat."

"As you just saw, I hold no preferences."

"I'm high maintenance."

"I have always loved ze maintenance jobs."

"Sometimes I sleepwalk. I eat too much mouse chops. I love catnip tea way too much. I am not a morning kitty."

"And I am a slave to ze phrase _zat eet doesn't matter_."

When Penelope ran out of her faults, there was nothing holding her back any longer. She took the last step that was needed into Pepé's outstretched arms.

Finally, they could have their first kiss.


End file.
